Sunday, February 28, 2010

This excerpt is from Serving Time by Sarah Veitch. Fern has been convicted of arson and has a choice - 10 years in prison or a shorter but undetermined period of time at a reformatory that uses special methods to reform its inmates. She chooses the latter, and her bottom is in for it.
Right away, in fact. The first spanking happens as she is being transported to the facility.

Fern looked up as a key grated in the iron door of her cell. It swung slowly inward.
"Right, let's teach you some discipline," said a familiar voice.
She looked beyond the court officer and saw Dr. Marshall standing there. He held out a pair of handcuffs.
"Surely that's not necessary?" Fern said, quickly putting her arms behind her back. She was much too classy for this!
"Only till we get you in the van," the police psychiatrist replied.
"As you wish."
"Hands in front. Good girl, that's it."
She winced as he clicked the cold grey cuffs in place.

Carefully maintaining her balance, she followed the officer and the psychiatrist to the van. She was helped in by two solicitous hands on her elbows and seated on the long low bench that ran the length of one wall... Dr. Marshall sat down next to her and she held out her cuffed slim wrists.

"Please take them off." She tried to make it sound as if she were talking about her panties or her lace blouse rather than the handcuffs ...
She watched Dr. Marshall's hands as they slid the small key into the lock and freed her. He had large hands, authoritative hands...The van turned a corner sharply, giving her the excuse she required to seduce the doctor. Quickly she fell against him, letting her nearest hand land half over his inner thigh and partway over his cock.

"Whoops!" She said breathlessly. She made as if to take her palm away and let her eyes widen, holding his gaze... She felt the primeval knowledge and power quicken within her as his manhood twitched then lengthened through his suit trousers under her hand. She looked up at him through mascara-dark lashes, smiled, and waited. Waited for him to take her in his arms.

Instead, in one movement that left her confused and breathless, he pulled her over his knee, so that her arms and legs were lying stretched along the van's hard seat, fully supported. "You're about to receive your first reformatory spanking," he said.

"But I haven't done anything!" Fern protested, trying to scrabble back.
The man held her firmly by the waist, keeping her helplessly in position. "Attempting to seduce an official for personal gain is a moral offense in our punishment book...The case notes we have, suggested you'd try to use your sexuality for non-sexual purposes."
"I'm sorry! Okay?"
Maybe if she appeased him he'd let her get up from his lap. Lying here like this was so humiliating.

"Let's lift this skirt up before I spank you," Dr. Marshall murmured, starting to peel away the smooth black linen from her nether cheeks.
"Spank me? You can't!" Fern muttered, reaching a hand back to swipe his away.

She opened her mouth in surprise as he grabbed hold of that same wrist and clipped the handcuff on, then brought the other wrist down before her and did likewise. Now her hands were fastened in front of her and she couldn't protect her poor bum.

"Time for a long sore lesson," Dr. Marshall continued. Fern stared at the seat of the vehicle as she felt him pushing up the lined fabric of her skirt until he tucked the hem under her armpits. She felt the cool air on the naked stretch of thigh above each stocking top.
"As it's your first offence since being sentenced to serving time, I'll just spank you over your pretty pants," the police psychiatrist said.

"Gee, thanks," Fern mumbled, anxious as ever to pretend she wasn't grateful or intimidated. She wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction of knowing she was out of her depth.
Dr. Marshall stroked her buttocks through their thin cotton coating until she wriggled with fear and anticipation. "You'll be punished shortly for that unnecessary piece of insolence," he said.

I look longingly at the package on the table, then apprehensively at the wooden spoon Ron is holding. He leads me to the back of an overstuffed chair that's facing the adjacent living room, and gestures towards it.

"Pants down and bend over." I obey. "I'll give you half now, and save the rest for when you get home." The swats commence, and I grit my teeth and try not to move or cry out. "On second thought, maybe I'll give you all of them now, and make the day really memorable."

It's only a fantasy. He doesn't call me darling, but that's not the point. We have yet to enjoy a birthday spanking. I have asked every year for I don't know how long, and get various responses from Ron, but the bottom line is, he hasn't followed through.

So, what's the big deal? Do I really have to have one? Why do I keep on asking? Am I just trying to keep up with the other bloggers who enjoy a spanking on that special occasion? Do I feel like I am missing out on something? Is it really important to me, or do I only want one because my friends all get birthday spankings?

Well, I do know that I have been requesting that mode of celebrating for much longer than I have had blogging friends, or even knew about spanking blogs. It's just a special little demonstration of affection that includes the incendiary activity I love best. I haven't given up hope.

Last week, I gathered my courage and asked Ron if this year, he would give me a birthday spanking.

"Can I get back to you on that?" His way of saying no without actually saying no.

"When?"

"I don't know. Soon."

"I don't want anything else. Just a spanking."

He thought a moment then said, "Okay." A pause, while I hugged him in gratitude and jumped up and down for joy. Then, "before breakfast?"

"Well...yes, that would be great!" That man read my mind again!

I'll let you know if and when it actually happens. I don't expect the other details of my fantasy to become reality too; at least, not this year. But you never know.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

It's amazing how many seemingly innocent candies and chocolates carry spanko or other kinky innuendos. The major supermarkets don't seem to carry them, but if you search in out-of-the way places, they're plentiful. Here are a few that I've come across recently.

Anything to do with belts gets my juices flowing. Especially zangy ones. Unfortunately, I can't say the same for the flavour of this candy. Yuck.

Whipping and Valentine hearts go together so well! And believe it or not, this treat was quite delicious.

I have only one word for this confection. Oxymoron.

Every girl likes a little tingle now and then. And when it's a chocolate tingle, that's even better.

What I wonder about is how this candy sneaked across the border. In Canada, all products must be labeled in French as well as English. Why is there Spanish text on the wrapper?

Not kinky, but definitely sexist. Whaddya mean, not for girls? I fully expected this macho bar to be at least 85% cocoa, but you know what? It was milk chocolate. Must be for girlie men.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Lately I've been reliving the day of my youth by listening to the Beatles during my daily commute. I must admit that I'm only familiar with their first few albums, and so the later ones hold some pleasant surprises for me. I don't recall ever hearing any lyrics suggesting spanking in the Beatles' repertoire, but yesterday I found one, in a song called Piggies.

Written by George Harrison for the Beatles White Album, it's the only Beatles song that contains a swear word. The line that contains both the spanking and the swearing was contributed by Louise, George's mother. The song was intended to be a social commentary on the middle class, but was later misinterpreted as an anti-police anthem.

Have you seen the little piggies crawling in the dirt?And for all the little piggies life is getting worse,Always having dirt to play around in.Have you seen the bigger piggies in their starched white shirts?You will find the bigger piggies stirring up the dirt,Always have clean shirts to play around in.In their styes with all their backing they don't care what goes on around,In their eyes there's something lacking,What they need's a damn good whacking.Everywhere there's lots of piggies living piggie lives,You can see them out for dinner with their piggie wives,Clutching forks and knives to eat their bacon.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

The Punishing of Pauline Peach by Alison North continues. (If you missed it, here's part one.)

Pauline has taken a job at a massage parlour, and in a short time has mastered the art of giving massages - and more - to her male clients. I found this passage intriguing because it is one of the rare instances of non-punishment spanking that acknowledges the erotic sensations that that activity can unleash.

"Any extras?" Pauline asked, three-quarters of an hour and one 'straight' client later."How much do you charge for a little light spanking?" The rather pleasant young man inquired.She blushed and looked at her feet. "Who's spanking who?" She mumbled after a moment."Oh, me spanking you, of course. Nothing kinky.""I see. Well, I don't know." She blushed again. "How much do you normally pay?""I've never done it before. I must say I simply don't have a clue. I just fancied the idea - it came to me while I was lying here watching your lovely rear end swishing about in the mirror. Watching it wriggle this way and that as you massaged me. It's a really beautiful shape, you know. So inviting.""Thank you," she giggled, colouring even more.

"I just like the thought of having it over my knee and smacking it two or three time. Have you ever been spanked before? By your boyfriend, I mean?""I don't think I'd better answer that one.""I'm sure you have," he enthused. "With a sweet little bottom like that, I don't think many men could resist it. So then, how much are you willing to take?""Oh, well, I suppose...it depends on the lightness of the spanking...""Okay, let's say I put you over my knee and smack you six times, like this."

He reached out and slapped the bed quite tamely. Really nothing more than a good, firm pat, she said to herself. Nothing to worry about. Not after some of the things her poor posterior had been obliged to suffer in the past.

"Oh, well, I'd have thought that ten pounds was about right," she murmured, trying hard to keep a straight face."Done!" He cried eagerly, pulling a chair out into the middle of the room and taking his ease. "That seems like a very fair deal to me."

She settled herself daintily over his lap, wriggling forward until her bottom formed the apex of her pose. She'd keep her gown on this time...and just let him lift it up. That way she'd be semi-respectable at least. Her top would still be under wraps, even though her bottom would be somewhat over-exposed...

He gasped at the sight of the tiny white knickers stretched so tautly across the fullest part of her hips. "I've never seem anything so pretty!" He enthused. "Your bottom's so perfect that it simply takes my breath away." He slid his right hand under the seat of the little knickers, savouring the creamy-smooth texture of the flesh beneath. Slowly he peeled the white satin garment a few inches down towards her knees, leaving it clinging across her upper thighs. Then he returned his hand to the luxury of her buttocks, stroking and caressing them tenderly in turn...

He drew a beep breath and held it, at the same time raising his hand well above his head. He stared hard at the immaculate oval cheeks. At their pale pink plumpness and perfect shape. How he longed to imprint them! How he longed to make his mark! Their sauciness was just overwhelming. His head was starting to spin.

He slapped hard at one cheek and then the other. Far harder than he'd meant. Certainly far harder than he'd indicated to Pauline. As she wriggled and squealed, he struck twice more in very much the same way, slap-bang across the middle of each bouncing, upturned cheek.

"Ouch!" She yelped as he struck again and then again. And then again after that. "What do you think you're doing? You said only six times. That was what you said.""I meant six times on each side.""No you didn't! Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Hey! Ouch! That hurts! Oh! Oww! Ouch!"

She closed her eyes and wriggled her hips, rubbing her groin firmly into the hard, hairy male thighs over which she was folded so snugly. The familiar feeling of vulnerability, coupled with intimate closeness, was making her insides glow even more warmly than the cheeks of her bottom. It was always this way, she sighed to herself. Always this way, the moment the initial shock had started to pass. She was enjoying the smooth, gentle way in which he was making amends by stroking her bottom better. She'd just lie here a little bit longer and enjoy it some more...

"I'm sorry," he whispered again.

She wriggled again, by way of reply, feeling comfortable and close as his hand continued to soothe. It was so nice like this, snuggled sexily into his lap and sandwiched so sweetly between hard male hand and thigh.

Eventually she clambered up from his knee. "It could be worse," she giggled, rubbing a hand over the centre of each blushing cheek. "You just took me by surprise, that's all. Otherwise I'd have been ready for you.""Your bottom looks beautiful like that," he breathed enthusiastically, gazing at the mirror reflection of her nicely coloured cheeks. "I'm really sorry I hurt you."'It's okay," she giggled again. "It just stings a lot to begin with. But now I'm feeling all sexy and warm."

He looked down at his long, stiff weapon. "I wish I had a bit more money," he muttered, shuffling his feet. "I could certainly do with a spot of relief.""So could I," she breathed softly.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Our spanking fun happens in the bedroom, but the kitchen is the room where we talk about it, and it's also the location where I am most likely to be the target of random swats. Here are a few vignettes.

We were both bustling about the kitchen, and I wasn't paying much attention to Ron, when I suddenly saw a movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned around quickly to see him threatening my bottom with the medium-sized cutting board.

"What are you up to?"

"Nothing."

"I saw you. You were going to whack me with that thing."

"No I wasn't."

But I could see the grin starting to appear at the corners of his mouth, then he laughed.

Five minutes later, as I walked past him on my way to the stove, I caught him brandishing the cutting board again.

"Oh, all right. Get it over with. I hope you rinsed it off." I bent over and put my hands on my knees. WHACK!

"Ow! #%$^@! That hurt," I grumbled, but I was secretly pleased that he had satisfied his creative urge at last. That cutting board had done vanilla duty for far too long.

We were discussing our dogs, as we often do, and Ron mentioned that Fluffy had never had his teeth cleaned by the vet.

"Sure he did," I corrected him, then reminded him of a few of the details of Fluffy's overnight stay at the clinic a couple of years earlier.

"I remember all that, but he never had a dental then," Ron objected.

I realized I wasn't going to convince him, so I bit my tongue, and Ron left the room. I heard him go upstairs, and then came the sound of rustling paper. He was looking through the medical files for our four-legged kids.

Some minutes later, Ron came back.

"You were right," he announced. I was standing at the sink scrubbing carrots.

Of course I was. I told you so, I thought to myself.

Smack! A strong hand connected energetically with my bottom.

"Ow!" Did I actually have a husband who was also a mind-reader? Every woman's dream.

I was lost in thought, in front of the refrigerator, staring at the shelves of vegetables and other perishables, when Ron appeared behind me.

"Why are you standing in front of the fridge with the door open?" and to punctuate his question, he gave he a hard swat on the bottom.

I jumped, and tried to answer him, but by now I had totally forgotten what I had been looking for. So I acted nonchalant.

"I was just trying to annoy you so you would spank me. And it worked!"

I was looking over Ron's shoulder as he added salt, then pepper, to the vegetables sauteeing on the stove.

Friday, February 19, 2010

Pervertables that shouldn't give up their day jobs in the vanilla world.

Personalized Apple Spoonrest
With artful style, our spoon rest features a pretty, raised apple design, along with the name of one special cook! We'll hand paint with your name of choice. Dolomite.

This looks like a perfectly lovely spanking implement - a white paddle with an apple and your very own name painted on it. But what's dolomite? Some kind of rock? No thanks! I prefer paddles that are either animal or vegetable, not mineral.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

I don't get spanked as punishment, but if I did, failure to obey one of the many Rules of the Cars is what would get me into trouble.

Ron is very particular about our cars. He cleans them frequently - inside and out - when weather permits. He's diligent about taking them in for regular servicing, and investigates every tiny noise that might signal a possible problem.

Once, just once, I drove away one winter's day without unplugging the car. For those of you who live in warmer climates and might wonder what I'm talking about, here in the north we have heaters that keep the engines warm at night. They prevent the oil from freezing or the gas from congealing or something - I'm not clear on the details - but the main thing is, when you turn the key, the car starts on even the coldest morning.

Anyway, before getting into the car, it's a good idea to unplug the car from the power source before driving. I only forgot once, but Ron's never allowed me to forget it. (And just so you know, he did it once too. And have I ever mentioned it to him? Well, not often.)

He could have just spanked me, and that would have been the end of it. But no. Every morning for the rest of the winter, when I was ready to leave for work, Ron would give me a hug, and just before he kissed me good-bye, would say, "Don't forget to unplug the car."

"I know," I replied for the first few days. I hoped that after a while he would see that I wasn't about to forget again and would stop reminding me. But it went on and on. I would lie awake at night, thinking of sharp retorts that might make him stop the reminders. I would fret and fume all day at work. I'd even refuse to kiss him goodbye if I heard those hated words. Instead, I'd snap "I know, stop reminding me!"

Finally, I gave up. When I got my morning reminder to unplug the car, I simply smiled sweetly and said, "Yes sir, thank you for reminding me, sir." (That didn't sound sarcastic to you, did it?) The reminders stopped like magic. Now, on cold days, Ron goes out and - on the pretext of starting the car and warming it up for me - unplugs it himself.

The other way I could easily get spanked is by backing out of the driveway incorrectly. I figure that as long as I eventually get to the road, then point the car in the direction I want to go, all is well. Ron has other ideas. I need to back out straight, with an equal amount of space on each side. He watches me from the window, and I return his wild gesturing with a friendly wave.

Once, he phoned me at work to say that he had been talking to Pete from next door. Pete had asked him to tell me to please try not to drive across his front lawn each morning. That's a gross exaggeration! And I'm pretty sure Ron made it up.

Just yesterday, I was putting my coat on, and Ron was giving me specific instructions on how and when to turn the steering wheel to back out; the car I was taking happened to be parked on an angle near the house. I nodded, smiled, and as I pulled on my gloves, I asked, "and I can expect a spanking if I don't do it to your satisfaction, right?"

"Oh, no," he replied, then added, "maybe from Pete, though. He gets pretty annoyed when you drive onto his lawn."

Monday, February 15, 2010

Joining, another novel by Johanna Lindsay, is about (wait for it) a strong-willed young woman who rides and hunts with a bow. She's betrothed to a man she doesn't wish to marry, and there is plenty of rebellious behaviour.

Our prospective groom knows what he should have done:

He should have clouted her smartly as she deserved.

Yet he didn't. He knows there's going to be trouble and asks his friend for advice.

"But how do you teach a wench not to be a shrew when she is born a shrew?"

I have an idea. But he doesn't.

"The first time she narrows those cattish eyes at me..."
"You'll what?"
Wulfric sighed. "I wish I knew."

Obviously nobody thought to spank this lovely young lady. She had been out of control while growing up and was now considered hopeless.

They had tried everything they could without seriously hurting her, and mild punishments had done no good.

It's pretty obvious there will be no spanking in this book. A later conversation confirms that suspicion.

"When have I ever given you reason to think that I might beat you?"

Very little, unfortunately. The betrothed couple eventually marry, still at odds with one another. They were married, and there was one final episode that made me hope that all was not lost on the spanking front.

"Methinks 'tis time you got what you deserve." So saying, he took her hand, dragged her out of the hall, up the stairs, straight into their bedchamber, where he then slammed shut the door. She had not once tried to stop him, too shocked that this was to be the result of a few harsh words between them. But then she had known it would come to this eventually, and that she would despise him for it. She had expected no less from a brute such as he, had known to expect it, which was why she hadn't wanted to marry him. But so soon after the wedding?!

When she felt no blows yet, she forced herself to look at him... He was staring at her, but his expression was now inscrutable. She was herself so tense now, she could have shattered in a strong breeze.

"What are you waiting for?" She demanded, but got no answer. "Will you beat me or not?"

Wulfric still didn't answer for a moment, but then he sighed. "'Tis not a matter of 'will' but of 'can', and I cannot."
"Why?"
"I would rather cut off my own hand than cause you the least little harm."
She stared at him wide-eyed, and then she started to cry, those words having gone deep to wrench at her heart.

Perhaps she could get an annulment.

The two then discover that the reason for their mutual distrust was all a misunderstanding, and they lived as happily ever after as they could without spankings.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

We always celebrate Valentine's day by going out to dinner, and I also have some plans for this evening that involve a black garter belt, black fishnet stockings, and something black and frilly on top. For when we get home from the restaurant, you understand.

Friday, February 12, 2010

Pervertables that shouldn't give up their day jobs in the vanilla world.

I've said before that I don't want metal implements used on my backside, no matter how pretty they are. In keeping with the Valentine theme, I thought this lovely whisk deserved a mention, even though there's no possibility of adding it to our arsenal.

Look at how much fun the cook below seems to be having.

I'm sure you will enjoy the description too. I've taken the liberty of omitting certain words from it, but otherwise it is shown as writ.

Heart Spring Whisk
This little spring whisk solves a...problem most of us have run into at one time or another. The rounded head of a traditional whisk contacts a small area of the flat...bottom and is too large to fit into the sharp angles of many...The articulated head of this stainless steel tool stays flat on the bottom...and the heart shape provides a point that fits into the corners... so you can work over the whole bottom of almost any...shape.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

No, we Canadians haven't added a new indoor sport to this year's Winter Olympics. But this picture is on all the Wonder Bread wrappers, specially designed for the 2010 Winter Olympics here in Canada. Their website explains:

We believe that through play, dreams are uncovered.

Interesting thought. I think the reverse can also be true: that our dreams become reality through our spanking play.

And on a related note, I bought a pair of Olympic mittens last weekend, in support of our athletes.

What do they have to do with our favourite indoor pastime? If you look closely, you'll see that I tucked the price tag into the cuff of one mitten. Here's a closeup: Who knew that size S&M would be a perfect fit? I take that as a good omen. Canada's going for gold! Let the games begin!